“I bargained to post it for the Geneva,” he said.  “I didn’t bargain to buy envelopes and copy addresses.  That’s a nice pencil-case of yourn.  Now I’ll make a clean job of it if you’ll throw that in.”

Kate handed it over without a murmur.  At last a small ray of light seemed to be finding its way through the darkness which had so long surrounded her.  Stevens put the watch and pencil-case in his pocket, and took the little scrap of paper on which so much depended.  As Kate handed it to him she saw over his shoulder that coming up the lane was a small pony-carriage, in which sat a buxom lady and a very small page.  The sleek little brown pony which drew it ambled along at a methodical pace which showed that it was entirely master of the situation, while the whole turnout had an indescribable air of comfort and good nature.  Poor Kate had been so separated from her kind that the sight of people who, if not friendly, were at least not hostile to her, sent a thrill of pleasure into her heart.  There was something wholesome and prosaic too about this homely equipage, which was inexpressibly soothing to a mind so worn by successive terrors.

“Here’s some one a-comin’,” cried Stevens.  “Clear out from here—­it’s the governor’s orders.”

“Oh, do let me stay and say one word to the lady!” Stevens seized his great stick savagely.  “Clear out!” he cried in a hoarse, angry voice, and made a step towards her as if he would strike her.  She shrank away from him, and then, a sudden thought seizing her, she turned and ran through the woods as fast as her feeble strength would allow.  The instant that she was out of sight, Stevens very deliberately and carefully tore up the little slip of paper with which she had entrusted him, and scattered the pieces to the wind.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

A GLEAM OF LIGHT.

Kate Harston fled as quickly as she could through the wood, stumbling over the brambles and crashing through the briars, regardless of pain or scratches or anything else which could stand between her and the possibility of safety.  She soon gained the shed and managed to mount on to the top of it by the aid of the barrel.  Craning her neck, she could see the long dusty lane, with the bare withered hedges upon either side, and the dreary line of the railway embankment beyond.  There was no pony-carriage in sight.

She hardly expected that there would be, for she had taken a short cut, and the carriage would have to go some distance round.  The road along which it was travelling ran at right angles to the one which she was now overlooking, and the chances were equal as to whether the lady would turn round or go straight on.  In the latter case, it would not be possible for her to attract her attention.  Her heart seemed to stand still with anxiety as she peered over the high wall at the spot where the two roads crossed.